


Fate plots a strange path

by snail_from_the_underworld



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, NOT self inflicted, authors laptop is missing and they're finding it impossible to rewrite next chapters, how do you tag, light merlin/arthur - Freeform, the knights are all friends, tw scars, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snail_from_the_underworld/pseuds/snail_from_the_underworld
Summary: "Merlin?..." Wide eyes met his "is that- is that a serket sting?"orMildly intoxicated, Merlin makes a slip up.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 224





	Fate plots a strange path

**Author's Note:**

> In all his years fighting the enemys of Camelot, Merlin was bound to end up with a few scars.  
> Pretty much all of this is already written and is just passing through the last stages of editing, it will probably end up being 3 or 4 chapters released over the next week.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {Hi! Due to the untimely disappearance of my dear friend (laptop I've had since seventh grade) there won't be any any more chapters for a while. I've tried my best at rewriting the missing pages but I can't seem to produce writing quality enough to be posted.   
> If there was anyone genuinely looking forward to the next chapter I'm incredibly sorry, and swear I will post the next the very second I'm able to recover it.}

The Knights sat around a fire, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Merlin watched them out of the corner of his eye, admiring the level of comfort they had with each other. He watched in amusement as Gwaine threw his arms out in front of himself "and then the little prat pulled a knife on me!" he shouted, the knights burst into laughter.

"Horse crap!" Percival protested "There is no way an eight-year-old threatened you with a knife!"

"He really did!' Gwaine slurred, the ail in his hand taking effect. "Here I'll show you" he replied.

"The little prat got me good too" he mumbled. Tugging off his boot and sock (much to the protest of the group, _pity their noses_ ) Gwaine rolled up his pant leg, exposing a jagged purple scar that slivered down his shin.

"Fine" Percival raised his hands in mock surrender "I'll admit" he snickered "it's impressive... for a paper cut"  
A burst of "ooooh"s and violent laughter erupted from the group.

Merlin glanced nervously at the tent a few meters away, hoping that the laughter wouldn't wake his royal prat-ness.  
Arthur was always in a mood if he missed his beauty sleep. Merlin chuckled to himself. He couldn't blame the man, truly. After his disaster of a date with Gwen, he'd need all the beauty he could get if Camelot ever wanted a queen.

Happy to find the last dish clean, he joined the group, choosing to sit down between Percival and Elyan, who both sent him a smile before turning back to the person speaking.  
"And this one" Leon remarked "is the reason we train the hunting dogs an extra month" Merlin let his mind wander. He thought back to the last couple days, wondering what had triggered the sudden uneasy feeling in his stomach.  
The Knights continued to chatter, firelight illuminating each mark they competitively flaunted.  
As knights, each of them was familiar with near-death experiences, their bodies reflected that. Tone muscles laced with thin lines, purple spots, and uneven skin.  
It seemed rather gruesome, Merlin thought. Sitting there, laughing at your marks of fear. "Marks of bravery" Lancelot would've corrected if he were privy to the warlocks thoughts. He'd have claimed they represented your choices, the path of your life, and the honour you held. Merlin had heard it a thousand times, his friend's desperate attempt at comfort.  
But it was a sentiment Merlin could never appreciate. Scars on a body like his served as nothing but a reminder.

"Merlin?!" Leon asked. Snapping the boy from his daze.  
"Huh?" he mumbled, earning a mixture of amused and concerned looks from the group.  
"I asked if you have any stories?" _There was that feeling again._  
"I know you don't get into as many fights as the rest of us do, but surely you have some?" he inquired.  
Merlin struggled to keep down the laughter that bubbled in his throat. He could see Lancelot across the fire doing the same.  
_"Some" oh boy, if they even knew the half of it_.

Scars laced his entire body, scars from animals, from sorcerers, from knights, from bandits, from Morgana, from saving the royal prats ass time and time again.  
Nowadays, he was surprised to find unmarked skin at all.  
"I've a few, don't really compete with all of yours though" He replied, begging the gods they wouldn't pick up on the poorly executed lie.  
"You sure about that mate?" prompted Gwaine "You've got that gnarly one on your arm" _Curse the gods._  
"Oh, yeah" he tried for his best casual voice. _Curse him for forgetting his jacket last week._  
"Well show us then, O mighty warrior!"  
Merlin fiddled with the brown fabric for only a moment before slipping his arm out. It was one of the easier scars to explain away, the Knights didn't need to know about the short fuse of a magic-hating neighbour.  
"Playing by the hearth as a kid" he smiled sadly "my Mother warned me to move so many times, and I -obviously- didn't listen" the burn snaked from the elbow past the sleeve, a blotchy pink colour that had faded over the years but would never quite leave. Healing magic never was his forte.  
"I lost my balance and" he gestured with his free arm "...well I didn't play near the fire again" the laughter continued at his embarrassed smile.  
He felt the stress slip away, the bottle of ail -Gwaine graciously shared- smothering the nervous flame he'd had all day.

Arthur.

The Prince sat inside his tent, paper in hand and blanket pulled across his lap. He could hear his men laughing cheerily outside.  
He wanted more than anything to join them, these hunting trips with his knights had always been his times to relax. Escape his Father and detach himself from the overwhelming expectations that came with being the crown prince. He craved laughter, wanting more than anything to feel the stress lines and wrinkles on his face melt away as his title did the same.

He groaned, abandoning the letter on the tent floor and choosing to massage his ache-ridden head instead.

He glanced at the parchment, "I'll deal with you later" he mumbled. Rising to his feet and wandering out of the tent.

Walking towards his men he was surprised to find the group now silent. He watched Merlin as he waved his hands in front of him, moving with unfamiliar grace and over-exaggeration.  
Even from afar, he could tell that the Knights were intrigued. They lent forwards on their seats, tense with expectation. Whatever Merlin was saying had them captivated, enchanted even.

It was odd, he knew it, and he'd hardly admit to himself, but he always loved watching the man speak. All emotion conveyed picturesquely on his pale face. Arthur didn't know why, but this moment, Merlin, sitting across the fire, carefree and happy, the black curls falling around his ears, and firelight dancing across his skin. He'd be content were it the last thing he ever saw.

Alcohol pooling in his stomach Merlin felt free. Tipsy and loose mouthed, but free.  
"Easy there Percival, you haven't won yet mate" he slurred. Percival scoffed and sent the man a stoic look "think you can do better little man?"  
A jousting stick through the shoulder blade left a mark, he'd admit, and as a trained physician he cringed at the thought of the internal damage "but two daggers to the collar bone definitely outdoes it!"  
He untied his neckerchief without a second thought, it was weird to feel the brush of air against his neck. After being covered for so long the foreign sensation awoke goose bumps.  
"Gods, you have to tell us the story man, how'd you even survive those?!" Gwaine broke in.  
_Oh right._  
_The story._  
The empty tankard sat near his foot. _Drunk_. He thought. _Must be drunk._  
_They can't know. Must be careful. Must think. Too drunk. Can't tell them._  
A gasp echoed through the clearing.  
Merlin whirled around, coming face to face with Arthur.  
"Merlin?..." He breathed. Wide eyes met his "is that- is that a serket sting?!"  
_Not drunk enough._


End file.
